Well, Actually it's not an idea per se, but rather an ethos about how I plan treat my characters (my poor little creations if you will) and world in which they will struggle to survive. I like to write in my downtime, and recently have been stymied by loathsome writer's block. Anyways, yes, I will create a world of suffering when I finally concieve of a setting that appeals to me enough to punish it. Why will they be made to struggle you may ask? Why would I cause my brainchildren pain? Am I full of bitterness and cruel impulses? Let me backtrack to a memorable college lecture that has really stuck in my mind and created, for whatever reason, a lasting impression on my literary brain. The truth of the matter is, that I was sitting and a doing a crossword in my Art History and Cinema class. The teacher, David Soren was a wonderful teacher and may I add, an exceedingly sensitive soul. But, he had what I now think of, a slightly unsettling fixation on a now much forgotten silver screen dancer whose name was Vera Ellen. The reason that he lectures on Vera Ellen, is that he grew up in the entertainment business and was fortunate enough to make the aquaintance of many talented stars. He, himself had been a vaudville dancer or something of the sort, and certainly knew a lot about the craft. Dancing that is. Sometimes, petite Professor Soren would show us a little jig, or pehaps an irish clog in a truly graceful fashion for a man who must be in his mid sixties. Not very tall and seemingly frail, he can be surprisingly passionate when lecturing, dancing, sing, telling jokes ect. He was seemingly the perfect elder gentelman professor type, with his soft leather shoes and his soothing voice and obvious need to influence the younger generation that they may be better. He also had a dog named "Angel". Angel followed him everywhere he went and I'll be damned if Angel didn't have the sweetest, most understanding expression on her fuzzy, whiskered, gently smiling, yellow lab face. I'm pretty sure that I'd let Angel babysit my kids if I had any. The lecture hall was very large and sat perhaps 400 people, and when he would do a delicate tap routine or say something sweet about someone who he admired like Vera Ellen, half of the kids in there would sigh and say silly things like "I wish he were my daddy." The female half anywas. But, I stray. Anyhow, one of the textbooks assigned for the course was a book called "Vera Ellen, the Magic, the Mystery." On the cover is a glossy picture of her smiling face, her expression both sad and vivacious. Soren REALLY likes Vera Ellen. One of his life's goals, was to make sure that "she was not forgotten." Well, I will most likely never forget her because every Tuesday and Thursday morning from December to May I heard about Vera Ellen at least once or twice during his passionate performance-filled hour and a half lectures. When he lectured on Post-Impressionism and it's influences on German Expressionist Cinema, somehow inexplicibly, Vera Ellen would pop up dancing poigniantly (and perfectly because "she worked harder than anyone") though her troubled life and though our imaginations. Not to mention the one lecture who's full ninety minutes was devoted to "Bunny". (I'm really not positive how she got that nickname.) Where was I? Ah. Lecture. So, Professor Soren was gently entrancing the students as he cooed paenisms to Vera. Meanwhile I was concentrating very hard on a crossword from the "Daily WildCat." (The Daily Wildcat is by far the best college newpaper in circulation by the way. Go ahead look online.) They have a section called "Police Beat" which has always amused me on sundry twisted levels. It may tie to my character sadism which I've unsucessfuly trying to explain. So I was reading "Police Beat" and doing my crossword, when my ears perked up....
Ok I'm at the library, and had no Idea that this was going to ramble so much. I'll finish up later...
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Safe Ride adventures
So, I originally was going to use this for a volunteer application to the peace corps. It makes me seem cool and collected. What can I say? I like make myself sound like the opposite of the neurotic weirdo that I actually am. The Peace Corps wanted to hear about an experience in which I had to use "skills" in order to "adapt" to some situation and surroundings in which I was unexperienced. Too bad I didn't follow the directions very well. Instead I skimmed the paragraph and totally ignored the title of the section which was "Cross Cultural Experience"-- or something akin that sentiment. So, I couldn't use my little adventure to boost my chances at putting on the peace corps pants, but I wrote, what I like to think of, an entertaining, short first person account of what a typical first day on the job experience is for me. So here it is. My first blog. Taken from real life. Uncut. Poorly Edited. Brilliant. Meant for the government.
"I had an experience while at the University of Arizona that I will not soon forget. It was during the second semester of my sophomore year that I was employed by the University’s “Safe Ride” program. The Safe Ride program is a student run organization, which is, in turn, patronized by the greater student government. The goals of Safe Ride are to provide safe, accompanied passage for students and faculty who travel to and from campus during the evening hours.
The night of my first shift was pleasant. I talked to passengers and participated in whimsical banter over the walkie-talkies. Things were going reasonably well for a first shift of a new job. I remember that towards the end of the evening, I was dispatched to pick up two girls at the student union who were both traveling to the same apartment block. The MeadowView apartment block was located on 2nd street and Lee—not the best area of town. I picked the girls up and headed out towards my drop. As I passed through an intersection which was about a block from the Meadowview, I was startled by a car came hurtling out of the darkness and almost t-boned me. It had blatantly run a stop sign, and I expected it to speed off. Instead, the car sped up next to the van as if to pass, but instead edged close to the van until we were more or less in the same lane. The car was old and had tinted windows. At that point I began to worry a little.
I radioed that I was having trouble, but couldn’t get through. I pulled into the parking lot of the apartments. The lot only had one entrance, and was otherwise hedged in by the back fences of surrounding houses and on one side, by the apartments themselves. I turned the van around in the lot to face the entrance. The other car had finally passed us when I had pulled into the parking lot, but had turned around and was now perpendicular to the entrance and blocking it. The passenger of the car had rolled down his window and was glaring menacingly. My two passengers were surprisingly calm, but were anxious that that I get in contact with someone. At this point, I had no Idea what was going to happen. I figured that either this was a case of road rage, or that we were about to be robbed. The passenger of the other car began to open his car door. All I could think of to do was hold up my walkie-talkie so that he could see it as I finally made contact with the dispatcher. When the guy saw the walkie-talkie he closed his door, and the car slowly drove away. I was told to return to the campus in order to speak with the police about the particulars of the incident.
I feel as if I responded to this challenge with common sense. I had not been trained to handle a situation like the one just recounted. I was told simply that I was to use the radio in the case of emergency. As it turned out, I was told that it was wise to have stayed in the vehicle and that I didn’t try to do something drastic such as instigate a confrontation or try to lose the other car. If I had not had passengers in my car, or had I not been on the job, I may have handled the situation differently. But, I was conscientious of my situation and of my duties, and modified my actions accordingly."
And there you have it! It's all true.
I used a stripped down and less chatty version for a state department app.
They require names and phone numbers.
"I had an experience while at the University of Arizona that I will not soon forget. It was during the second semester of my sophomore year that I was employed by the University’s “Safe Ride” program. The Safe Ride program is a student run organization, which is, in turn, patronized by the greater student government. The goals of Safe Ride are to provide safe, accompanied passage for students and faculty who travel to and from campus during the evening hours.
The night of my first shift was pleasant. I talked to passengers and participated in whimsical banter over the walkie-talkies. Things were going reasonably well for a first shift of a new job. I remember that towards the end of the evening, I was dispatched to pick up two girls at the student union who were both traveling to the same apartment block. The MeadowView apartment block was located on 2nd street and Lee—not the best area of town. I picked the girls up and headed out towards my drop. As I passed through an intersection which was about a block from the Meadowview, I was startled by a car came hurtling out of the darkness and almost t-boned me. It had blatantly run a stop sign, and I expected it to speed off. Instead, the car sped up next to the van as if to pass, but instead edged close to the van until we were more or less in the same lane. The car was old and had tinted windows. At that point I began to worry a little.
I radioed that I was having trouble, but couldn’t get through. I pulled into the parking lot of the apartments. The lot only had one entrance, and was otherwise hedged in by the back fences of surrounding houses and on one side, by the apartments themselves. I turned the van around in the lot to face the entrance. The other car had finally passed us when I had pulled into the parking lot, but had turned around and was now perpendicular to the entrance and blocking it. The passenger of the car had rolled down his window and was glaring menacingly. My two passengers were surprisingly calm, but were anxious that that I get in contact with someone. At this point, I had no Idea what was going to happen. I figured that either this was a case of road rage, or that we were about to be robbed. The passenger of the other car began to open his car door. All I could think of to do was hold up my walkie-talkie so that he could see it as I finally made contact with the dispatcher. When the guy saw the walkie-talkie he closed his door, and the car slowly drove away. I was told to return to the campus in order to speak with the police about the particulars of the incident.
I feel as if I responded to this challenge with common sense. I had not been trained to handle a situation like the one just recounted. I was told simply that I was to use the radio in the case of emergency. As it turned out, I was told that it was wise to have stayed in the vehicle and that I didn’t try to do something drastic such as instigate a confrontation or try to lose the other car. If I had not had passengers in my car, or had I not been on the job, I may have handled the situation differently. But, I was conscientious of my situation and of my duties, and modified my actions accordingly."
And there you have it! It's all true.
I used a stripped down and less chatty version for a state department app.
They require names and phone numbers.
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